Welcome Back Jimmy!

Like many Essendon Football Club supporters I’m elated with the announcement that the 3rd greatest player the club has ever produced, James Hird is returning to Bomberland as head coach for the 2011 season and beyond. Unlike many fellow supporters I won’t be racing to the clubs membership turnstiles to sign up with my hard earned dollars. I don’t need too - my membership will auto renew like it has for the past decade. I’m the worst (and best) kind of supporter, I’m a footy tragic. 


Despite my passion for the club and a yearly attendance of between thirteen and eighteen games a year, I too had lost faith, and didn’t like the direction Essendon was heading. Even with a finals birth in 2009 I was apprehensive of our 2010 fortunes, as the retirement of veteran’s Lloyd and Lucus alongside the departure of mature and experienced bodies in Lovett and McPhee left a large void in the best 22. It was always going to be a hard task to improve or produce a similar result. I predicted in my heart of hearts a slide in form despite the occasional glimpse of decent football; I didn’t however expect the circus that surrounded the club in the last half of the season.


It is almost comical to recall that at the half way mark of the 2010 season the Don’s where only sitting in a slightly unfavourable five wins and six losses. Prior to a very narrow loss to Sydney at the SCG, they’d amassed three wins in a row, two of them against a pair of the seasons fancied premiership contenders. The team’s fixture wasn’t ideal but it wasn’t too bad, some experts even gave them a chance of making the eight. A mere month and a half later and the Bomber headlines where anything but rosy. Six consecutive losses, including a six goal towelling - at home - from interstate wooden spooners, West Coast stamped the seal on the Essendon 2010 season - disgraceful.


I’m a pretty forgiving person, and while I had some strong reservations in late 2007 when the club appointed Knights to the lead coaching position, I’m pretty good at going with the flow. I did broadcast an ‘approval’ percentage of Knights, starting at a low fifties base and over a season and a half eventually settling on a low nineties value. The delisting of Kepler Bradley was a good start, but I do digress.


The beautiful thing about hindsight is you can never be wrong. Knights turned out to be a poor coach, among his greater faults was turning a number of senior players against him. I credit the early retirement of Essendon’s own goal kicking legend, Matthew Lloyd to differences between Knights coaching ideas and Lloyds clear strengths. Lloyd has been a revelation in the media this year, opposition supporters that couldn’t stand his on field demeanour and idiosyncrasies have – begrudgingly – told me they honour his opinion. His knowledge, presence and footballing smarts where greatly missed in 2010, his track record should have secured him the automatic key forward role in the 22, playing second fiddle to slowly developing forwards that should be learning in the reserves is madness and ultimately why the number 18 hung up the boots. 


In a personal first, in round 21 I did the unthinkable and knew then and there that Knights would be very lucky to be coaching come 2011. At half time in the Essendon versus Brisbane game I picked up my bag and trotted down the many steps of the stadium, proceeding to leave the match all together. This was a huge action for me; I typically can’t understand why supporters leave games with minutes to go in the last quarter. Yet I was leaving when the match was as close to the beginning as it was to the end. This wasn’t a completely isolated incident as over the preceding month I’d lost interest in my four or five weekly football related panel shows. Opting to delete the recordings I’d scheduled over enduring the predictable bashing of the clubs current state. 


I didn’t even bother attending the last match of the season against the Dogs, and I wasn’t alone. It was the lowest attended match at the Dome of any Essendon match played there in the last decade. Without knowing it for sure, but having an inclination I’d voted to sack the coach. The board acted swiftly and within 12 hours of the end of Essendon’s 2010 season it had also become coach less. A feeling I’d never experienced in my first near thirty years of supporting the club had now occurred twice in almost as many years.


Regardless of my elation at the eventual signing of Hird as the head coach of the Dons, it is not without huge risks. The club has essentially appointed a multi million dollar coaching panel that will be lead by a 2010 under 9’s coach. That coach just happens to be a dual premiership player, Brownlow medallist and five times club best and fairest. Hird does have a certain right to the role, but many would like to see him fail – a word he doesn’t seem to understand. While Hird denies that he is a marketing puppet designed to right the clubs commercial opportunities it would be naïve to disregard that component of his appointment. 


This alone, is the sheer brilliance of the signing. Hird has taken the role to pour his considerable football knowledge down the throats of an exited and willing young list, to rebuild the club to the envy of the league. The board has appointed him to unite the clubs supporters, board members and of course corporate sponsors towards a common goal. While Hird’s coaching abilities are raw and untried his strength in the corporate world and in front of a media conference are second to none. He is a born leader of men; on the field he led by example, his sheer will to contest carried others to greater things. Essendon are attempting to assemble a super football department to train him to inspire from the sidelines in much the same way he did on the field. Hird ticked too many of the right boxes to really ever consider anyone else for the role if he was available. Regardless of if Hird is a great or horrendous coach the decision to appoint him was always the right call …

Rest in Peace Mindy Dog

It is with a pang of regret but many happy memories that I remember the late Mindy Pickstone. My families last pet dog. She passed earlier this week; from what can only be described as old age, and leaves everyone she ever meet with muddy paw prints at about waist height. While only a medium sized dog she always found reason to bound up to greet a returning or fresh face.

She is and will always be the first dog I knew from day dot, and was as loving and loyal as you’d expect of her kind. An English Springer Spaniel a breed my father painstakingly picked out. She loved wide open spaces, the water and above all else the lap of a willing participant settled down in front of the television. I think Dad still suspects she willed herself to remain that little bit smaller than usual, in order to keep the privilege of being a lap compatible canine. He’d lovingly label her a ‘runt’ of a dog, but her nuzzled snout against his favourite chair was always enough to secure her an occasional snoozing place upon his lap.

Mindy could very easily have been a rat and not a dog at all. Many years had passed since my family’s first dog; Rani passed from old age. My younger sister starting to get a little stronger in her convictions of having a family pet, and after a weekend of looking after some school rats she made a startling declaration. Years of prior hassling for a dog hadn’t paid off as she could never counter the argument of what to do with a canine when the family was away for the weekend. My sister calculated that with feeding bottles and food rat’s where much lower maintenance and the same argument couldn’t prevent her from having at a pet if not a dog.

After hitting up the research books on what type of Dog was right for our family, Dad and Mum announced to us kids that they'd organised a puppy for the family and we'd be picking her up from Melbourne in a couple of months. It might have been weeks and while I'm filling in a few of the gaps with assumptions, the announcement only felt like a day or two after my sister's declaration of rat ownership. My sister either through pure genius or complete dumb luck had won, and the family was better for it.

I still remember driving up in to the then strange hills of the outskirts of Melbourne to pick her up from the breeders. Dad likes to do these kinds of things right, so she was a pure breed English Springer Spaniel, now 16 years older and hopefully a little wiser I realise that she likely cost a pretty penny too, a price she returned in spades. If I recall correctly Mum and Dad had secured her as the last of the litter so we didn't have much choice in which pup we where taking home. Even at that early age she was a little smaller than her siblings, but showed the same canine curiosity as her kindred, greeting us strangers at her Mothers pen.

It was a decent drive back to my Aunties where we where staying that night and then a much longer trip back to Portland her eventual stomping ground. I think spending so much time in the car with us initially gave her an absolute love for car trips. Car was one of the first words she ever learned to recognise. Upon hearing it uttered she'd bound to life and circle frantically between the front door, garage door and the kitchen draw that her lead was stored in. All necessary in her puppy brain to make sure she was included in any potential adventure.

Even a week old she was the centre of a family tale I’ll never forget. The so called fool proof system that Dad insisted would give everyone an equal say on her naming. This system inevitably tied with boys versus girls so unmistakeably she was named as the ladies of the house wished. I ultimately found more joy in Dad's claims that his system was infallible, so at the end of the exercise at least three of us where happy, and I think Dad had more fun coming up with the system than interest in the name in the end anyway.

She had the same energy explosion upon hearing the phrase 'walk' uttered in mid sentence as she did when hearing ‘car’, always keen for another wander through the streets of her stomping ground. In her early years my sister and I made the mistake of teaching her to run before she could walk. On roller blades or bicycles we'd use her to propel us all over the neighbourhood inspired by her raw puppy enthusiasm. It would be almost a decade before she out grew the desire to tug on a lead and while a mistake at the time, it crafted her into the dog we all knew. Her later years on the lead might have had fewer children's giggles but her enthusiasm never wavered as she accompanied a combination of Mum, Dad or both around the Fawthrop Lagoon. The image of Mindy returning muddy and water logged is as true to her being as curled up on a lap and snoozing.

She didn’t seem to pick favourites and loved every family member equally. If any of the four of us weren’t home she’d happily camp by one of the many front facing windows and keep an eye out for our safe return. We soon realised that the windowed outside world was a bit like a dog TV. A deep rumble of a bark would occasionally accompany a ruffling of the curtains. It sounded so out of character to her temperament, I’d be amazed if she didn’t surprised her self the first time she let out her rumbled low bark.

To as loyal and loving a dog as any family could ever wish for, we thank you for the memories Mindy. You will be sorely missed and forever remembered, you where the perfect companion and gave more than you ever asked for, may you rest in peace as you continue to your next walk of life ...

Oh snap! … I’m all grown up.

As the movers and shakers of Australian parliament name call, seduce, lie and contradict each other all under the guise of forming a ‘minority government’. I realised an undiscovered truth about myself in the fallout of the 2010 Australian Federal election.

I care

This might well be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but if I’m honest with myself. I have to admit that my opinion of Australian politics is likely to have changed forever. It is comical that I’ve come to this insight after we have headed to the polling booths, but then we could be heading back sooner than we think.

Since coming of age and having a say in my nation’s future I’ve always taken a pretty bullish and simpleton view of the political landscape. I would whimsically declare “I don’t think either party has any true power to influence or change anything in my life”, so I’d vote for the same party every election regardless of polices.

Despite taking great interest in a number of issues that affect a minority of Australia’s. Such as R18+ censorship for video games or the recently announced intention of the government to ‘try’ and censor electronically distributed apps to tap into a source of revenue. I didn’t really draw the dotted lines together and see that either lack of action or attempted action would negatively impact my life.

Unfortunately with this new found appreciation to at least take an interest in what is going on in the nation, I can only concur with the rest of Australia. It is pretty much a dead all draw as to which party I favour running our borders, digital highways and general coming and goings.

I hope to do go back to the polls, and both parties run another campaign based on what they learnt listening to us the people. Given the decision is clearly on a knife’s edge either party could make an ever so slight adjustment and potentially stream role the opposition. It might even be proof the whole kit and caboodle system actually works!

Now while I’m on a role, maybe its time I try Vegemite again, you never know I might even like it this time around …